


Here's to growing old

by Hikary



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Ariadne is a national treasure, Arthur's POV, Character Study, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Introspection, M/M, Post-Canon, Stream of Consciousness, Team as Family, basically it's Arthur watching Ariadne & Dom getting together over 10 years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25966315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hikary/pseuds/Hikary
Summary: Arthur has come to the conclusion Ariadne had missed her chance to develop into a regular human being. They simply found her too soon.Ariadne gracefully fits into the Cobb's life. Arthur (and Eames) are there to watch over them.
Relationships: Ariadne & Arthur & Eames (Inception), Ariadne/Dom Cobb, Arthur & Mal Cobb, Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Here's to growing old

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 10th to my disaster dream babies. My cinema literally opened for the anniversary screening and I've been seeing 'Inception' like 3 times a week (and reading Arthur/Eames the rest of the time).
> 
> I absolutely adore Ariadne's relationship with everyone, especially with Dom, and I've always low-key shipped them. I was talking to my friend about Ellen Page in general and we agreed that, regardless of the role, she irradiates these 'soft queer vibes' (which translates to me as "I now ship Ariadne/Mal/Dom", but that's another story). So, here's Dom getting the soft bi girlfriend he needs.

Arthur has come to the conclusion Ariadne had missed her chance to develop into a regular human being. They simply found her too soon.

(Eames would laugh at him. Eames would say it’s pretty obvious it was the other way around and kiss Arthur’s pouty lips.)

True to her nature of architect, Ariadne is in perpetual expansion, a little universe of its own, whose margins are yet to be defined. Arthur can sense them brushing against his owns, still tentative, still a bit shy, and yet disarming in their genuine curiosity.

Ariadne is too smart, too kind, too sensible for her own good and for _their_ own good. Arthur cannot believe she came back, that first time in Paris.

Arthur cannot believe she keeps coming back.

* * *

Ariadne reminds him of Mal or perhaps of his memory of Mal: too smart, too kind - only the best bits of her have survived – but never too sensible, no, Mal was all fireworks and pure recklessness. He has wondered, briefly, whether Cobb likes having Ariadne around for that exact reason.

(He can hear Eames chuckling, lovingly, though. _‘Darling’_ , he would say, shaking his head, ‘ _you’re so good at so many things. Reading people’s mind might not be one of them._ ’)

Memories are a tricky business.

Arthur thinks of the Mal who used to inhabit Cobb’s dreams and shivers. That is when it hits him (granted, _Eames hit him, too_ , with a pillow, one time when they’re in bed talking about this), that his own Mal and Cobb’s, their memories, might not have much in common, if not anything at all.

 _How was she?,_ Ariadne had asked.

 _Lovely,_ was the first thing that came to Arthur’s mind, to his own surprise.

He remembers himself, just as young as Mal, never quite as reckless, though, and he is certain he would have never guessed that will have been his answer. Of all the things she was back then, ‘lovely’ strikes him as uncharacteristically ordinary.

Memories are a funny business.

Ariadne might be close to Arthur’s memory of Mal, but she is nothing like Cobb’s. If anything, it’s Ariadne and Dom himself who are kindred spirits. Arthur catches Dom busy observing their architect, almost lost in the sight; he watches her with intent and curiosity and a specific shade of fascination that is hard to describe. As if he was watching himself from the outside and he could not believe how many good things about himself he hadn’t noticed before, in all these years.

A cheating mirror.

Again, an architect. Even unconsciously, Ariadne is building illusions, so perfect to catch Dom’s eyes, so stable he can’t tear his gaze away. He would look at her because, unlike real mirrors, she would only show the best sides.

Arthur might have objected, once upon a time.

Now, he sees nothing wrong in it. It is not much different from all the times Eames says _I love you_ both of them, because Arthur has never been completely comfortable with voicing his own feelings the way Eames is. Nothing wrong with being loved, nothing wrong with feeling worthy of it.

* * *

Sometimes, Arthur gets lost in the details. He’s a man of details by nature, this is why mazes come easy to him: he knows where other people won’t look. He remembers challenging Mal, jumping from staircase to staircase, throwing steps and handrails and sudden turns at each other. There’s the other face of the medal, too. Arthur gets the details, but they get _him_.

Like, when Ariadne begins gravitating almost permanently around the Cobb’s, all of them, big and small. Arthur feels an instinctive wave of relief washing over himself and the voice in his head, the one that sounds like Mal, is whispering _you can rest, now_ , _Arthur_ and _they will be alright_. And yet, at first he couldn’t make out the exact shape of Ariadne’s hands – always touching, caressing, protecting the three of them – now perpetually intertwined with Cobb’s. Sometimes, they look like Mal’s hands, as if she is taking over control of the pack. Sometimes like Phillipa’s, tiny and curious and eager to be guided.

(Eames just smiles and says nothing. He nudges and pokes at Arthur’s careful observations with his own bright, colourful thoughts, pushing him gently towards the right direction.)

Ariadne has a unique way to take Cobb’s hand into hers. She rubs that one spot right above his knuckles with both thumbs, gentle and soothing. Science has yet to discover an outburst Ariadne hasn’t been able to calm with this technique. It is an insane amount of power coming from someone with such a soft voice and small hands. But Arthur has learned that things such as physical strength and size are entirely subjective to the laws of the real world and therefore only apply to those who are confined there.

* * *

Arthur knows he will get there, eventually. Regardless of what Eames thinks, with his secretive smiles and his little emotional nudges.

* * *

It’s many, many years later.

At this point, Arthur and Eames have a real home to return to, with solid walls Arthur can’t cheat, and a staircase that ends – it ends in their bedroom, cosy and warm and secretly Arthur’s favourite place in this and any other world.

It’s many years later and they’re killing time in-between jobs. Cobb’s smile is brighter than ever – Phillippa called a moment ago, she has received her acceptance letter – and he is just messing around. He reminds Arthur of adult dogs when they’re struck by the sudden need to act like puppies again. He also reminds him of when they - Mal, Arthur and Cobb – were greedy young students together, in Paris.

And it’s Paris, again.

Cobb is playing with bridges and mirrors, anything to make Ariadne laugh these days. She twirls and giggles, seeing the newly built forms, perhaps – Arthur supposes – recognising them from an old dream with Cobb.

« First lesson, in shared dreaming » he hears her scolding Cobb, not without affection « _Never recreate from memory_. »

« Well. » Cobb seems unable to stop smiling « What if your memory is actually the memory of dream? »

« _Or places you’ve seen_. » she continues and, from the tone, Arthur is sure she must be paraphrasing some of Cobb’s original rules « Doesn’t matter where you’ve seen them. »

Ariadne is prancing around, arms wide open. She steps in front of a mirror door, an impossible shape grown between the bridge’s pillars.

« I know this one. »

She pretends to tap on the mirror, but never quite touches it, instead, she turns to grin at Cobb. Her eyes are twinkling in delight. She covers the length of the bridge in a few, long strides and reaches out for the other mirror, just where Cobb’s reflection is. Her fingertips brush his frame as she taps on the glass expecting to break it. Only, it never shatters, because it was never a mirror in the first place and she finds herself reaching for the real Cobb. (Well, the real dream-Cobb anyway.)

« _Only use a detail_. » he picks up, his voice and expression incredibly soft.

This is when Arthur’s discrete nature forces him to look away. He catches a glimpse of them in the mirror: it’s nothing more than Ariadne’s feet, she’s standing on her tiptoes, and the curve of her face disappearing into Cobb’s. Arthur can’t tell whether the dream is swallowing them – not that they seem to care – or, on the contrary, finally making their real shape visible.

Arthur thinks that, whatever this new shape is supposed to be, it looks nice. It suits them.

* * *

It turns out, growing old together is what suits all of them best.


End file.
